


don't make this brittle heart fall apart

by saunatonttu



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned/implied child abuse, this was supposed to be fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12291192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saunatonttu/pseuds/saunatonttu
Summary: Corrin's enforcement of a day off for the army, especially her siblings, drives Xander to contemplate his emotions and the state of his heart. It goes as well as expected, and leaves him irritated and fragile.Ryoma's presence either helps or makes it worse. It's hard to tell.





	don't make this brittle heart fall apart

**Author's Note:**

> Now you swear we'd never fall to pieces  
> Trying to soothe me with your sweetest words  
> But I'm holding back to open arm  
> Because I know love hurts
> 
> (Heart of Glass, Anna Blue.)

He wakes up to a feather-light touch on his lips and the light fragrance of burnt-out scented candles. It’s so comfortable Xander is inclined to go back to sleep, but the presence of war prickles at the edges of his consciousness and keeps him away from sleep. Gods, it really is the first and the last thing he thinks about through the day.

Today, he has a distraction in the form of wandering lips on his skin, pressing kisses in their wake and sending Xander’s heart fluttering. When the lips go lower, down his neck, the perpetrator’s hair tickles Xander’s skin.

“Mmmm... Ryoma,” Xander mumbles, syllables slurring together as he instinctively moves away from the source of the tickling sensation. “Stop that.”

“Ah... you’re awake.” Ryoma sounds entirely too pleased about it, but at least his hair doesn’t brush against Xander’s neck anymore. Xander cracks open an eye, catches sight of Ryoma’s smiling mouth. For one long moment he’s sure he’s having a heart attack, but all his heart does is skip a beat. Ryoma’s mouth twitches and the smile widens. “Good morning, Xander.”

Xander wrinkles his nose, eyelids falling shut once more. He has no strength to embrace emotion this early in the morning. But he does enjoy the warmth of Ryoma’s body against his, so he drapes an arm over Ryoma’s waist. He gives an incoherent sound when Ryoma moves on top of him and continues to nuzzle into Xander’s bared neck.

“Ryoma,” Xander groans under such warm affection, his fingers tapping at the small of Ryoma’s back in a feeble effort to distract him. It is by no means unwelcome, but it makes gathering his thoughts impossible, especially when Ryoma stops to kiss at a particular spot over Xander’s pulse - as he does now. By the gods, is the Prince of Hoshido trying to kill him with tenderness?

Ryoma laughs into his skin, the rumbling reverberating against Xander’s pulse like thunder, and Xander’s irritation melts away before it can truly take any form. Xander sighs and moves his hand up from Ryoma’s waist into the long tangled mess of hair and pushes his fingers in it. Despite tending to it before turning in the previous night, it has already become a maze of tangles for Xander’s fingers to undo.

Ryoma’s smile widen against his neck, and Xander’s mouth curls upwards as well as he leans in to nuzzle at the top of Ryoma’s head. His nose is numb to most scents thanks to Nohr’s thick and more than a little polluted air, but he thinks he can smell something sweet from Ryoma’s hair, perhaps a particularly strongly scented body oil. If he recalls correctly, Ryoma did receive some massages to his sore muscles yesterday... that would explain it.

Ryoma’s teeth press against Xander’s skin, nipping and cutting Xander’s train of thought off. It’s gentle, like a kitten nibbling at a pinkie, but comparing Ryoma to a kitten of all things is so strange Xander can’t help but laugh breathlessly. If anything,  Ryoma ireminds him of the big cats on the pages of his old study scrolls, the hand-drawn versions of large felines that don’t exist in Nohr.

“Good morning, Ryoma,” Xander finally manages as he opens his eyes just as Ryoma lifts his head. Warm gray meets the red-hued brown, and while it is not a particularly momentous event, Xander decides it is worth to commit to memory. It is rare enough an occasion during their excursion through Valla, anyway. Perhaps Corrin had a point about having a day off every now and then...

“Are you finally awake now?” Ryoma asks, and the smile crinkles his eyes. Up close, it’s devastating to witness. Xander’s heart burns from sheer delight. Xander runs his fingers down Ryoma’s hair, tugging at the little knots, and watches Ryoma’s face twist into a grimace.

“Was that a little too harsh?” he asks, slowing his fingers while Ryoma’s went down to Xander’s side, absently rubbing over the cotton undershirt. Underneath this shirt, on the spot Ryoma rubs, is one of Xander’s newer scars, gained in the battle against Iago.

Ryoma sighs and relaxes against Xander once more. “It’s fine,” he says and there’s a hint of michief in Ryoma’s eyes now, “you can be rough with me if you want.”

“So early and already up to no good, Prince Ryoma?” Xander’s lips slide into a tiny smirk, but its sharpness is lost under the weight of his affection. Ryoma’s lips hover his mouth, and Xander’s eyes slide to look at them.

“Why, Prince Xander, it sounds like you don’t mind it so much,” Ryoma murmurs as lashes flutter down to hood his eyes. “Shall we get... unruly, then?”

“You are lucky Corrin enforced this __day off__ ,” Xander teases, his laughter fanning Ryoma’s lips, “or else I’d have to tell you no.”

“The luckiest man alive,” Ryoma agrees easily.

“I wouldn’t go __that__  far,” Xander huffs, moving his hands to the back of Ryoma’s neck and watching Ryoma’s face for any sign of discomfort or flash of fear. He finds none of that, and it startles him how deep the trust between them has grown in such a short time - in comparison to the years of tension between their countries, at least.

“But it is true,” Ryoma insists right before he settles his lips against Xander’s, the warm kiss the final piece of their morning ritual. Xander entwises his fingers behind Ryoma’s neck, pulls him closer, and eases into the dry kiss while praying his morning breath not to be too bad. In no hurry to separate, both take their time in tasting the other’s lips while Ryoma’s hand wanders beneath the short sleeved undershirt Xander slept in, rough fingers pressing at Xander’s scars.

Xander’s just closed his eyes and about to deepen the kiss when he hears rustling from the tent’s exit, the familiar sound of someone entering when they really should have announced themselves from behind the closed fabrics. Xander doesn’t get the chance to unlock his lips from Ryoma’s when he already hears a distinctly familiar and feminine voice say, “Oh my.”

Ryoma raises his head at that, __finally__ , but he’s disturbingly unperturbed. “Hello, Princess Camilla.”

Xander can’t crane his neck up enough to see Camilla, but he can feel her amusement way before she lets out a delighted giggle nevertheless.

“Sister, have you __ever__  heard of-”

“Knocking? Yes, darling, but as we all know, this is a tent...” Camilla sounds entirely too chipper this morning, and Xander’s good mood withers a little as he buries his face into Ryoma’s neck, sharp embarrassment hot on his face for the intrusion of privacy.

“Do carry on,” Camilla continues smugly as she audibly retreats, “I’ll be back later.”

“Oh, gods,” Xander groans when she’s gone, bristling when Ryoma simply laughs. It is rather unsettling when your lover indulges your sister’s teasing, he thinks as he pulls his face away from Ryoma’s neck and frowns up at Ryoma’s much too relaxed face.

“Someone’s embarrassed,” Ryoma notes like it’s not obvious, his lips curling and barely containing his laughter behind them.

“Please,” Xander huffs and gently swats Ryoma’s hands away from his sides. “I’ll go see what she needed me for.”

“Should I tell my retainers to steal your clothes to keep you in bed?” Ryoma wonders out loud as he still makes no move to abandon Xander’s chest. “Saizo should be nearby.”

“I am not above smacking you with the hilt of Siegfried if you continue this nonsense,” Xander says mildly, giving in and patting Ryoma’s hair. “Do get off me, love.”

Ryoma reluctantly does so and kicks off the blankets from them. He knows his duties as well as Xander his own, but he’s awfully clingy in the mornings. Xander wishes he minded it a little more than what he actually did.

Ryoma says after a long beat of silence, “I wish you would indulge yourself a little more once this wars ends.”

Xander pulls himself up and goes towards the pile of discarded clothes he had left beside his side of the cot. No armor today, although it would make him feel much more at ease. He takes great care in making himself presentable, his back turned on Ryoma, though there’s only so much he can do about his hair, which keeps getting curlier under Valla’s exhaustingly warm days.

He doesn’t want to say what’s been on his mind recently, though the silence that follows Ryoma’s words tempts him to voice his insecurities. But Xander doesn’t rise to the bait easily, and the chance slips away when Ryoma exits the tent first - after pressing his lips on Xander’s neck first as a quick farewell for the next... however long having breakfast with their respective siblings takes. And the talk with Camilla. Xander steels himself for that confrontation as he exists the tent after Ryoma.

 

 

Camilla’s one-eyed eye roll is impressive enough to shut Xander’s mouth when he tries to tell her that she should forget what she saw inside the tent. She frowns at him over the table as they wait for the rest of their siblings, her lips curled down in displeasure.

“Why are you always like this, Xander?” she wonders, her visible brow twitching along her words. “So quick to deny yourself anything even remotely positive.”

He scowls at her over their plates of porridge. It’s an argument they have been having once the armies joined together and everyone began to form tentative relationships with one another.

He almost wants to say " _ _look at how it turned the last time"__ , but he knows that hurt has no right to exist at all anymore. So he clenches his jaw, and doesn’t think about the times he spent with Corrin in the Northern Fortress either training ot reading storybooks out loud to her.

Camilla knows his reasons anyway, and her eye softens as she peers at him. They’re both so used to pretending Xander doesn’t need to be looked after, this new situation unsettles them, sets them off course regarding one another.

“Sorry, darling,” she says. In the distance, Leo and Elise are getting their portions of the porridge. Camilla bites her lip anxiously. Sometimes when they’re like this, moments away from being joined by their siblings, she looks as vulnerable as on the day they met in Cyrkensia... when Xander lifted Siegfried against her with a betrayed heart and even more betrayed words.

Thinking back on that day constricts Xander’s throat, reminds him of the invisible chains he always sees himself tangled in. Tied to the crown of Nohr, to the duty that sometimes feels like a curse depleting his energy, his soul.

His happiness is of no consequence to his kingdom, to his people, he knows. He owes peace to them, especially now. Perhaps that’s why this __day off__  sits so badly with him, why the unease settles in his shoulders and jaw like he’s preparing for a battle instead of spare time.

He smiles faintly at Camilla as he stirs at his steaming porridge. “You scold because you care, sister. Never be sorry for caring.”

Well - he’s a little sorry for caring. Perhaps that makes him a hypocrite.

 

 

After breakfast is over and done with and each sibling on their own separate ways to spend the day however and with whomever they pleased, Xander returns to his tent - that in actuality could be mistaken for a comfortable cottage with fabric walls instead of wood - to pick up his quill, ink, and the notebook he has carried with himself for years now.

The astral realm is __mostly__  a safe place, so most retainers are more relaxed in their duty - save for Ryoma’s pair - of guarding their lieges. Xander’s retainers, as lovely as they are, definitely belong in that group as Laslow loves running around flirting and getting rejected (at this point there __must__  be something like masochism involved, Xander muses) and Peri likes watching people train and get bruised.

There’s a clearing in the nearby forest outside the camp that Xander finds tranquil. The light that filters through the fresh green leaves of trees is less obtrusive than that of Valla and Hoshido. It warms instead of suffocating. It doesn’t kill the flower that grew in the darkness. It’s the place where Xander feels most at ease outside the company of his siblings.

He has a quilt with him to sit on while he works on his penmanship, back against the strong trunk of an oak tree. It’s a cool morning, not as cold as Nohr’s but cold enough to make Xander feel at home, and his senses are awake and aware as he absently tips the quill into the ink and begins writing.

There’s very little free time during war, but Corrin has been insistent on having days off every now and then. Xander has spent most of them writing, trying to create the words he wishes to say first on paper.

It’s been on his mind ever since he and Leo joined Corrin’s army, and even more lately when it’s become clear things aren’t changing for better. When __he’s__ not getting better. He’s tried focusing on the war effort - and Camilla’s right, he has done so astoundingly well - but it hasn’t removed the issue, just tangled it more inside his heart and head until he feels disconcerted every time he shares a moment with Corrin outside their duties.

Describing his feelings regarding Corrin hasn’t always been so difficult. In her childhood and adolescence, she was the one untainted source of light in his life. Separate from his daily life and its burdens, she had been the single source of unburdened and uncomplicated joy regardless of her heritage and her living situation, not to mention father’s intentions with her.

It’s strange to think how Corrin had once been the sole salvation of his days, whereas now he can’t even bring himself to share any childhood stories with her. Now it’s Camilla’s duty, which she took immediately with great joy.

There’s something that keeps him from giving away his heart to her as readily as in the past. It’s not a lack of trust. At least it shouldn’t be; he trusts her with his life should it come to it, not that he has great regard for his life to begin with. His life is easily given if it’s for the sake of Nohr or his siblings. Corrin should still count as his sister, shouldn’t she?

He knows... he knows it’s her reluctance to join his side from the beginning of all this that gnaws at him, even though he now knows it wouldn’t have been the best choice. He __knows__  this is the only road to true peace for __both__  kingdoms.

His hand shakes as he tries to write an apology on the open page of the notebook. Corrin deserves at least that much. But he’s been out of touch with his emotions for a while, both on purpose and due to duty. He doesn’t want to be like this, but loyalty has been etched into his bones and it’s... not unimportant to him. Father always expected unquestioning loyalty from his subjects, from __Xander__ , and though Xander found ways to question his father and on occasion act behind his back, he’s never been unloyal when it comes to the bigger picture.

Droplets of ink fall and smudge the words Xander has been writing, rendering them useless while Xander clenches his jaw at the distraction his thoughts give him. Perhaps the awkwardness he feels is also due to the initial Hoshidan presence in the first weeks of the alliance. He had never caught Corrin alone. He had never conversed with her alone. Perhaps those weeks of surveillance sealed Xander’s heart, then.

Perhaps he’s already given up on ever having Corrin as his sister again. He can’t find the same attachment to her he used to have, and frankly speaking it terrifies him that he can’t lean on his interactions with her like he used to when he was younger and very much in need of a support system.

She’s still his sister. So is Camilla - and he doesn’t have this problem with Camilla.

He wipes at the droplets of ink furiously, knowing it’s futile, and only ends up smudging the page further. Maybe it’s a bit like that with Corrin, too. She’s no longer the innocent, sheltered girl that had kept Xander sane through some of the worst months of his life, though she naturally wouldn’t know anything about that.

She’s so different from the young woman he used to know; he’s a little afraid, he thinks, that she will see him for all that he is and call him out on it. She isn’t the light in his darkness anymore - but that may well be because Xander has been dragged into a world with so much more light than just Corrin.

Whatever the reason, he knows things will never be the same again. That’s why he’s trying to find a way to apologize to Corrin, who he still feels he is responsible over. She is his sister - she is...

The faint rustling sound behind him doesn’t get his attention, but Ryoma’s deep voice certainly does. “There you are, Xander.”

Speaking of overpowering light...

Xander lifts his eyes when Ryoma’s already settling down beside him. His hands hide the notebook’s pages from view, even though the text is hardly legible now. His new companion’s name comes out softer than intended from his mouth, and Xander isn’t sure what to make of it anymore. “Ryoma.”

The relief that floods him just at the sight of Ryoma’s relaxed and easy-going face, all the intense focus gone for the day, is absolutely ridiculous but Xander can’t help himself. He’s beautiful like this, really, with the early sun’s light dancing down the long spikes of reddish brown hair and warm gray eyes peering at Xander with undeserved kindness.

“I know Corrin probably told you not to wear it,” Ryoma starts, eyes twinkling, “but it’s still delightful to see all that forehead free from your crown.”

Xander tries not to flush, as it is unsightly to lose composure like that, but Ryoma’s nothing if not the master at bringing warmth into him. Moments like these make him regret less being in the light, even if it highlights his own shortcomings and flaws. And, gods, there is so much that he still lacks...

“Are you mocking me?” he asks, though he knows better. Ryoma is a painfully honest man, often saying whatever is on his mind even without prompting, but he is not cruel.

Ryoma snorts and leans in to kiss his forehead. It’s a little awkward as Ryoma hasn’t outgrown him in the past hours to make the angle for the approach of his lips any different, but it’s an affectionate gesture regardless; Xander melts into it. Strange how much easier accepting love from outside his safety net has become.

“Why would I ever, Xander?” Ryoma murmurs against his skin, the breath of Xander’s name sweeter than the sweetest nectar. As if the mutually spiteful words from the time before the alliance never existed in the first place.

Corrin likes to take people and their motivations at face value, but Xander can’t help but question Ryoma’s, even if he never gives voice to his doubts.

This is why he never should be given time outside his duty. He starts looking fault in things that look perfectly fine on the surface.

“I suppose you would have no reason now,” Xander concedes and relaxes as he makes room for Ryoma to sit on the quilt. He turns a new page of his notebook when Ryoma’s not looking as he can’t bear the chance that Ryoma catches what’s weighing on his mind.

He eases his hold on his quill, exhaling once, and offers a sideways smile to Ryoma. “You were looking for me?”

“We did promise this day to each other, Xander,” Ryoma reminds, the reproachful tone mild as he sweeps Xander’s hair back behind his ear. He can’t seem to stop himself from touching Xander whenever the opportunity presents itself. So much for the __aversion to physical touch__  that Xander has heard much about.

Xander’s eyes crinkle as a smile tugs his lips upwards, much against his will. “I apologize. Avoiding you wasn’t my intention - I just didn’t think dragging you off into the forest outside the camp would have appeared very decent.”

“I suppose Saizo would have had some words about that, indeed,” Ryoma says, accepting his words without any issues though his eyes linger on Xander’s face. They drop to the notebook resting on Xander’s lap next, Ryoma’s eyebrows inching up.

“I write to practice my penmanship,” Xander explains at the question hanging in the air. “Mother always said handwriting reflects the writer’s character, so we ought to hone it.”

“Show me,” Ryoma requests and leans against Xander’s shoulder to peer at the blank  pages - though a smudge or two from the earlier incident has seeped through, it’s barely noticeable.

Xander lets his hand and the quill hover over the page as he contemplates what to write. There’s that more light-hearted (childish, perhaps) part of him that wants to ruffle Ryoma’s feathers to get back at him for all the teasing. Ryoma has been pulling it out of him more and more, and so Xander allows himself to give into the impulsive thought.

In neat Nohrian cursive, Xander writes _I am terribly in love with you_. He looks at Ryoma from the corner of his eye when Ryoma inhales - not a sharp sound, almost a gasp, like Xander’s caught him off guard.

These confessions are hardly new, but... it’s the first time Xander has been so direct about it.

“It says what I think it says, yes?” Ryoma clears his throat, but there’s no hiding the slight tremble of excitement that travels through the words. Xander nods his confirmation, and Ryoma’s face softens. Ryoma never seemed like an expressive man, and perhaps he isn’t, but there are moments...

“Your handwriting is beautiful,” Ryoma says, looking down at the words strewn across the page in a straight line. “As expected of a beautiful man.”

Xander huffs. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Ryoma.”

“I suppose so,” Ryoma smiles at him, “but I like being honest when the opportunity for it rises.”

Ryoma taps at the notebook’s page. “This may sound like a silly question, but... you know to write in my language, I assume?”

“Somewhat,” Xander says with furrowed brows. “I was mostly taught how to read it, but I practiced writing it on my own.”

“Do you know how to write my name?” Ryoma’s gaze turns sharper, more intense, and Xander’s face warms from such heavy scrutiny. Xander takes a moment to consider Ryoma’s question before he turns his focus back on the now only mostly empty page before him.

He’s not entirely confident in it, but he thinks he recalls having seen Ryoma’s name written in Hoshidan texts before. The few Hoshidan texts that still lingered in the depths of Krakenburg’s large library were from Sumeragi’s time, but some were newer.

“Don’t laugh if I misremember,” he tells Ryoma sternly, and Ryoma nods, an expectant but immensely charmed expression already taking over his face.

Xander squints as he begins writing out what he thinks are the characters for Ryoma’s name, though he’s not sure if he’s getting the order of the strokes right on the first try.

He glances at Ryoma when he’s finished, and sees stunned adoration twitch across Ryoma’s face, eyes slightly wider than usual and lips curling into a much gentler smile. Xander holds his breath as he watches the fascination on Ryoma’s face, and waits.

“You got it,” Ryoma says as he looks back at him, eyes warm as his smile turns smaller. “I never thought such a simple thing could bring such joy.”

Ryoma gently takes the quill from Xander’s fingers and leans down to scribble something beside the name Xander just wrote.

“What are you-” Xander wonders, but Ryoma is already pulling back.

“It’s your name,” Ryoma says, tapping at the empty space beneath the name he just wrote on the page. Ryoma’s handwriting is roughe thsn Xander’s, but there’s a certain charm in the sharpness of it, and Xander isn’t sure how much his heart can take. It’s odd, he thinks distantly, to lose his composure over a writing sample.

“I,” Xander starts but trails off as he stares at Ryoma. The morning light casts a few rays on Ryoma’s hair, flickering against the brown hair, and Xander finds himself thinking __how handsome__  yet again. It’s not the first time through their relationship, it won’t be the last either.

He never expected to fall so deep, not after he had already reached the conclusion that such things romantic love and attraction were utterly useless in the grand scene of things.

It’s discomforting - wanting someone badly enough to lose sight of himself - and Xander knows it’d have been better to cut these feelings off from the beginning, or at least keep them at bay and leave room for the possibility of betrayal.

Xander grits his teeth, frustrated with how he feels like he’s free-falling into something he can’t escape from, and leans down to kiss Ryoma. The qull falls from Ryoma’s fingers, but Xander can’t pay attention to anything other than the feeling of Ryoma’s mouth against his and how it calms the storm inside his head.

Ryoma’s taken aback - Xander isn’t bold with his affection - but indulges Xander and returns the kiss with a huff of laughter against Xander’s mouth.

But because this day loves intefering, there’s yet another rustling from the bushes nearby, and a surprised exclaim follows before it devolves into a mumbling of curse words.

Xander jolts back, just as surprised as Takumi obviously is, and turns to look at the young prince who has inadvertently stumbled on the scene.

Takumi looks like he wants to die or at least crawl back into a bed as he grips at his sacred weapon like he’s about to break it.

“S-sorry,” he manages to croak out, his face the shade of red that Xander doesn’t know if it’s from embarrassment or anger, before stumbling out and rushing back into the woods.

“Oh my,” is all that Ryoma says about it, and Xander elbows him not too gently to silence Ryoma’s entirely too boisterous laughter.

 

 

They have lunch with their siblings, after which it starts to drizzle in the castle grounds. Hoshidans withdraw into the buildings while Nohrians continue on walking around the place as the rain is hardly comparable to the downpours back home.

Xander sits down on the porch of one of the buildings used as weapon storages, and watches the rain while trying not to feel like this is all a huge waste of time. Corrin requested that he and Ryoma specifically take this day easy, but Xander can’t say he’s enjoying himself that much aside from the comfort that Ryoma’s company has given him since the early hours.

The astral realm’s climate is much milder than Nohr’s, but the early morning chill and the afternoon rains put him right at home. The nights are hard to adjust to as they’re much warmer than Nohrian ones, but it’s been months by now and Xander has adapted.

Letting go of his thoughts and calculations doesn’t come as easily since there’s always something to think about. Future. Past. Father... Corrin. Ryoma. The components that make up most of Xander’s worries these days. His mind is another battlefield on its own, but this one Xander isn’t equipped to fight in.

He wishes he could find peace in more things than Ryoma’s company and memories of Corrin and his siblings back at the fortress, but that’s his selfishness speaking. There is no peace for him. All he can do is to take some of the burden from Corrin’s shoulders.

(He has come to terms with it: he will slay his father so that Corrin won’t have to. So that Nohr can be saved. If and when it comes down to it.)

If his father’s weakness in the past his easy attraction to women, Xander muses that his own must be his _ _too strong__  attachment. He doesn’t trust easily, thanks to his upbringing, but when it happens...

Xander narrows his eyes. The rain thickens, its noise beating the thudding of the heart in his chest, and he stands up when he can no longer stand sitting still, alone in his contemplations.

Rain feels good in his hair, and though it messes up the fabric of his shirt, Xander rather likes the feeling of getting soaked. Maybe it’s contradictory; he doesn’t enjoy water that much and he has never learned to swim, but he enjoys this and the chill that seeps into him.

Mostly, the sensation of cold takes him out of his head.

He used to get sick easily as a child, so servants were very against letting him out when it was raining. Xander never seemed to learn the lesson no matter what they did, though it was easy to make him feel terrible for inconveniencing people.

Xander doesn’t get sick that much anymore as he’s learned to take care of himself and to have a proper rest when he needs one. And he knows he shouldn’t stay out in the rain now either, so he takes a deep, shuddering breath and takes the first step towards Corrin’s tree house. He’s postponed confronting himself and Corrin long enough.

What he doesn’t count on is Ryoma coming out into the rain to find him, even though he should have known it would happen. Xander recalls an old promise for afternoon tea.

He looks ridiculous when he finds Xander: his long hair is dripping wet (though Xander’s must be the same) and some strands fall over his eyes that look unusually distressed. Ryoma’s red-lined white clothes are not soaked just yet, but on their way there. They’re loose, but Xander can see the outlines of Ryoma’s abs, probably.

“Are you __trying__  to get yourself ill?” Ryoma asks. The words are rough, stoic even, but Ryoma looks worried. Like he’s caught sight of Xander’s anxieties. Like he __knows__  how scared Xander is of needing another person like this, like he’s scared of how much he needed Corrin back then and-

Oh... it suddenly clicks.

Xander looks away, squints at the tree looming nearby. It’s been a while since he’s felt the urge to cry - not even Corrin’s decision made him weep, as deeply as it had cut his heart - but now... and he doesn’t even know why his eyes sting from tears now.

(There’s a tiny thought in the back of his mind that calls him a weakling for it. It sounds like his father, the one that’s grown cold and bitter even towards his children.)

Ryoma’s hands are soft, though slipped from the rain, when they touch Xander’s cheeks to pull his eyes towards him.

Up close, Ryoma’s concern is even more palpable, impossible to unsee even through the water that’s stuck in Xander’s eyes. Anxiety is an old friend of his, but it’s been so long since it’s come to the surface in the form of tears. Anger, __rage__  is its usual form, but now...

“Xander?”

It’s been building up on the inside all this while, Xander thinks dimly as he says nothing and lets himself be pulled into a tight embrace. He rather feels like a child, a fool, although he knows emotions aren’t always a weakness. Corrin, led by her emotions, isn’t weak, and she’s shown that time and time again.

But this... paralyzing fear, caged inside, is definitely that.

Xander curls into the embrace, burying his face into Ryoma’s shoulder, and clutches at Ryoma’s sides like it will save him from his doubts in his relationships and the deep loneliness that’s been festering all this time.

This is why he shouldn’t be given time alone to himself. He has taken to destroying himself now that father isn’t there to do it for him.

**Author's Note:**

> recognize my italics already ao3 
> 
> but god I've been writing this the last couple of days and I'm exhausted because this was supposed to be... 3k at most but now it's turning into a two-shot.


End file.
